


Dead Man Walking, December 1976

by BobbyCrocker101



Category: Kojak (TV 1973)
Genre: 1970s, Bombers, Bombings, Detectives, Extortion, Gen, Manhattan South, NYPD, New York City, Terrorism, homicides, murders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25093669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BobbyCrocker101/pseuds/BobbyCrocker101
Summary: Kojak’s thoughts concerning the events that occurred in the Season 4 episode ‘Dead Again’ with a few changes and bits added.This is an original story set in December 1976Feedback welcome





	Dead Man Walking, December 1976

**Author's Note:**

> None of the characters belong to me; I'm just playing with them for a while before putting them back in their box. No money is being, or will be made from this story.
> 
> I was 15 in September 1973 when "Kojak" first aired, and had other things to do. Now I'm retired I’ve finally watched this wonderful old TV show for the first time. I’m from the UK and have never visited the US, but have made use of the internet to gain information about the NYPD and the city of New York. I apologise in advance for any language confusion.
> 
> In the Season 2 episode “Nursemaid” (1974) Crocker’s ID shows him to have been born in 1943 which would make him 32 in 1975, but because he's occasionally referred to as being very young and is often called "Kid" or "Junior", my version of him was born in 1951 which makes him 25 in this story. In the season 1 episode “Deliver us Some Evil” (1974) Crocker mentions a sister, but since she's never referred to again, I've created my own version of her. She is the only 'biological' relative I'm allowing him to have. And as little is known about his back story, I've made up my own version.
> 
> Original characters: None
> 
> Spoilers: Major spoilers for the Season 4 episode ‘Dead Again’.
> 
> Feedback welcome. Enjoy!

Julie Winston; I barely knew her. Yet the impression she made on me in that short time would remain with me for the rest of my life.

****

For once it was a quiet afternoon in the squad room, and I was sitting in my office reading some reports, the sound of happy conversation floating through the open door. I smiled to myself as I heard Crocker scolding Stavros for not spelling his name correctly on a report. Apparently the E on the typewriter wasn’t working. Naturally it would never have occurred to Stavros to go and use another typewriter. He just figured that since no one was likely to read the report, it didn’t matter, which wound Crocker up even more. Of course I wouldn't have been surprised if Stavros had deliberately typed the report that way…

I went back to reading my report and later heard Crocker talking to a young female who was claiming that someone who was dead was going to kill her. Curiosity got the better of me and I got up and looked into the squad room, and there facing me was a young chick; about eighteen years old, dark hair, dark eyes and also clearly very agitated. He asked her what the trouble was, and she told him that there was this man, who’s supposed to be dead, but he’s going to kill her. Crocker asked why this dead man was going to kill her. She replied because she knows he’s alive. Understandably he asked if she’d been drinking or smoking dope; we get all sorts of people in the squad room. She told him she wasn’t crazy, that HE was after her. Crocker asked WHO was after her and she told him this man who died a year ago. Stavros offered her some coffee, but that just upset her even more – and that was without her actually tasting it!

I suggested Crocker bring the young lady into my office where we could chat more privately. I introduced myself and invited her to sit. Then I asked her to tell ME about it. She suggested I only wanted to laugh at her, but I told her I wouldn’t laugh at her name, which was Julie Winston and she lived at 1043 West 4th Street. I told her to begin her story again. 

Frank Kelton she said had been her neighbour back in Ohio and he’d been killed a year ago. Apparently it was in all the papers; they’d called it a ‘gangland thing’. I indicated to Crocker who was standing by the door to go check it out. In the meantime Ms Winston continued with her story. She told me she’d seen Kelton today; that he’d tried to follow her. I asked her if she was sure it was the same man. She got upset again and told me that of COURSE she was certain! Kelton had lived in the house next door with his sister. She’d seen them almost every day for four months; they were terrible people. 

I wondered if it had been a case of mistaken identity. I mean it’s not uncommon to see someone you think you know only to discover it’s just a lookalike. She told me that ‘this lookalike’ had run after her, and that she hadn’t imagined it. I looked at the young girl sat on the chair across from me. She’d only been in town a few weeks. I told her New York isn’t the easiest place to ‘make it’: people are under constant pressure, minds wander. At that moment Crocker arrived back in my office with a yellow sheet. While I read it Julie informed me that she wasn’t nuts, she was just scared and wanted protection. I informed her that according to the Ohio Police Frank Kelton was dead. She immediately jumped out of the chair and asked if we were going to do anything, but since Kelton is officially dead there was nothing we could do I told her. She turned and stormed out of the room, knocking into Crocker in the process.

It’s strange the way people can sometimes affect you. When I first met Crocker I instantly felt protective toward him; fatherly even. The same thing had just happened with Julie Winston. I felt guilty for letting her leave in that upset state and walked round the office until I arrived in front of the window. Looking out into the darkness I could just make her out; standing in the road trying unsuccessfully to hail a cab. I knew she’d be out of luck; cab drivers don’t like driving along East 5th at night let alone stopping to pick up fares. I decided I should at least make sure the kid got home safely; the streets are no place for a young girl at night. Grabbing my coat and keys I headed downstairs to offer her a ride.

****

Her apartment was on the fourth floor, and consisted of a large sitting room, with the bedroom, bathroom and kitchen off to one side. She’d decorated it very tastefully with lots of pictures on the walls. She bought them on whims she told me, and had been buying one today when she’d seen Kelton or whoever it was she’d seen; she was no longer sure. I checked the window; the lock was secure and there was no way anyone could climb in from the outside, and the locks on the door were good and strong. I asked her if she had anyone she could stay with for the night, but she told me she hadn’t made any friends yet, and then cheekily asked if I was propositioning her. There was a time when I might have, but she was a child; almost young enough to be my grand-daughter. Even Crocker the squad girl watcher, would have thought twice I mused to myself. She suddenly cheered up and informed me that since I was the first person to visit her home it was a cause for celebration and she offered me a glass of wine. But I was on duty and had to refuse. I gave her my card and told her that her apartment was as safe as it could be, but to call me if she got scared. I kissed her hand and walked to the door. But before I could leave I was rewarded with a thank you and a kiss on the cheek, which for some reason disturbed me. I decided to leave before I made a fool of myself.

****

Back in the squad room Crocker and Stavros were watching something on the old portable TV we keep about the place. Stavros teased me about stopping for a late supper with Julie Winston; candles, champagne and like that. Crocker made some wise crack about me taking her to the zoo on Sunday like any good uncle. I informed him that I’d just seen Jimmy Hiller; ‘no good’ Jimmy Hiller standing on the corner of St Mark’s Place and I was sure that he would want to know what the man was doing there. My detective grabbed his coat and left. I told Stavros to go with him and hold his hand. I was in the mood for some peace and quiet. 

Unfortunately I didn’t get very much. Shortly after Stavros and Crocker left I received the call to tell me that Julie Winston was dead.

****

Arriving back on West 4th I parked behind the Forensics wagon. Saperstein and Rizzo were already at the scene and were interviewing potential witnesses. I walked over to the main entrance where a covered body was lying on the concrete. Removing the sheet I looked down upon the young face I’d seen so alive just over an hour before. 

Rizzo began to tell me who she was, but I finished for him. I asked what else he had. He told me she'd lived on the fourth floor and was some sort of loner; strange, he said. The way HE saw it she'd gone up onto the roof for some fresh air and she’d either jumped or fallen… 

I walked into the building and up to the fourth floor and into her apartment. Two men from Forensics were in the living room; one taking photographs, the other dusting for prints. I informed him that some of those prints would be mine. They left me alone in the room. The conversation I'd had earlier with Julie was replaying in my head. I wandered into the bathroom and turned off the tap that I could hear running, and then I walked back into the living room where I poured myself the glass of wine I’d refused earlier. Saperstein appeared in the doorway. He informed me there had been no suicide note and no signs of a struggle up on the roof or in the apartment. The only thing he’d found was a picture postcard, written to someone called ‘Tom’ asking him to say hello to the cops in Ohio and that it was lonely in New York, but nice. There was no address. Rizzo also appeared in the doorway. I told them to give this case the ‘full treatment’; go through the apartment, get Forensics to dust her baggage and the things in the dresser. From the roof down to the window ledge, then canvas the building and then spread it out; apartments, stores, the mailman, the milkman, who was here, who saw her. My detectives were far from happy at having to do all that work for a ‘jumper’, but I told them sharply to do it for THIS one. Not being able to stand anymore I headed back to the comfort of my office.

****

I was sitting in my office on my own in the dark. Eventually Crocker appeared in the doorway. He looked tired. I knew he’d not slept for a couple of nights, and after he’d dealt with Jimmy Hiller, I’d asked him to go down to West 4th to take charge of the clear-up. He informed me that so far no one had come forward: no friends, no relatives, no one to identify the body… I told him she’d had ME. I saw the look of concern on his face. I’ve always been able to tell when Crocker’s bothered by something, it seems he can also tell when something’s bothering ME. He suggested we go and get something to eat before heading home, but I declined and told him I wasn’t ready to call it a night just yet. I mentioned that I’d found out Julie’s parents were killed in a house fire when she was fifteen. I got up and began to walk round the office ending up by the door where Crocker was stood looking at the floor. 

“She really got to you didn’t she?” he commented. She was just a kid I said; I’d taken her home to make ME feel better. I’d listened and I left, and now she’s lying in the morgue. Crocker asked if I thought the dead man had pushed her. But the Ohio Police were satisfied that Kelton was dead, although it HAD come to my attention that the FBI had never filed a report on that, and I wanted to know why. There had been a gangland contract out on the man, a body had been found in a burnt out car, the false teeth were his along with some jewellry and what remained of his clothing. His girlfriend had identified what they could sweep up. I looked at Crocker; he looked dead on his feet. I asked him if he was tired, but he said he wasn’t, so I asked him to walk in his sleep over to the FBI office on Federal Plaza and see what he could find out. He knew the guys down there, and if anyone could prise information out of them, he could.

****

The following afternoon, having got some sleep, Crocker walked into my office. I commented on the length of time he’d been away 'visiting' with the FBI. He asked me if I’D ever had lunch with someone on the Federal payroll. I hadn’t, but I HAD heard they do rather well out of it. Anyway I asked him what he’d got besides indigestion, and as it happened he’d managed to get quite a lot. It turned out the reason the ‘Feds’ never ‘closed the book’ on Kelton was because he was one of the best explosives men in the business, and he was smart; too smart to get ‘blown away’ the way he had. I asked how it happened. Kelton, Crocker told me, had been hired to ‘settle’ a labour dispute. He’d blown up a union hall, killed three people and crippled ten, and the ‘boys’ had ‘snuffed’ him before he could be ‘connected’, but the 'Feds' hadn’t ‘bought it’. 

At that moment Stavros walked into the room holding a piece of paper. He’d managed to track down the artist Julie Winston had been talking to when she’d seen her former neighbour. He’d even got the guy to provide a sketch of the man for us. I took the paper from him and looked at the drawing. It was very good.

****

The following morning I was in my office chatting with Lieutenant Steve Nicola. Overnight I'd decided I needed to go to Ohio and speak to the local police, and see if I could find anyone who remembered Julie. It really bothered me that she had no one. Nicola would be filling in for me while I was away. I told him my plan; a two hour flight to Ohio then a quick hop to West Virginia, and I should be back tomorrow. He told me he’d tried ‘that one’ a few times himself and advised me to get some cash as he doubted the Borough would pay for my trip. It was a ‘Cupie’ case he said; jumped or fell; ‘they’ won’t pay out a dime for a hunch. I asked him to cover me for the night and spare me the lecture on the economic history of the New York Police Department. He laughed and called me ‘his friend the jet setter’ and asked me why I was going to West Virginia, and if I had got the idea from one of those Paul Newman cop movies that are on the TV from time to time. I told him about my hunch.

A couple of months after Kelton’s body had been identified by his girlfriend she was killed during the commission of a burglary, and not by a police bullet. The case was still open. I told Nicola I’d spoken to the local police and had discovered that Kelton had a sister in Parkersburg, West Virginia and it’s about twenty miles from Ohio. It was also the only place Paul Newman had never been to and that was why I was going! 

At that moment my phone rang. It was the funeral home calling to ask what type of casket I’d like for Julie. I told them something nice, and flowers; lots of flowers. I felt paying for her funeral was the least I could do for the poor kid, otherwise she’d finish up at Hart Island along with the rest of the unclaimed. I saw Nicola standing in the door looking at me. For a moment I’d forgotten he was there. No doubt word of my deeds would soon be all over the precinct. There was nothing I could do about that now; I had a plane to catch. Picking up my overnight bag I walked out of the office.

****

The following morning I walked into the coffee shop in Parkersburg and was met by a tall thin woman in her fifties. She had a pleasant expression on her face as she greeted me. I was too early for breakfast apparently, but there was plenty of coffee and fresh donuts; I could help myself and she’d count them later. I asked if she was Mrs Chester, the owner. She replied that yes, she was the owner. I told her I wanted to talk to her, she asked what about and I showed her my badge. The pleasant expression on her face changed instantly. Angrily she said she had nothing to say, which was odd I commented, because I hadn’t actually asked her anything yet. 

I enquired as to how sure she was that her brother was with the ‘dearly departed’. She told me her brother was dead and I should leave him be. I said that a lot of people are dead, but usually you see bodies. She replied that SHE’D seen him. I corrected her and told her SHE’D seen nothing but a box of ashes. She reminded me that his girlfriend had seen him also, to which I pointed out that she got herself dead also. Mrs Chester then asked me to leave. But before I went I asked her if she knew a girl named Julie Winston; used to live next door to her in Ohio. Well SHE got herself dead also. The woman threatened me with the police and her lawyer, but I’d already spoken to the local PD and they knew where I was. She asked how I’d known how to find her since as far as she was aware no one in town knew her. I told her she’d paid sixteen thousand dollars for the coffee shop - in cash. Where had the money come from, the grave? She claimed to have saved it, that there had been insurance. Not on her brother there hadn’t I pointed out. She ordered me to leave her shop and told me that I’d gone there for nothing. I replied that the trip was worth it and thanked her. She was curious and wanted to know the reason for my thanks. For reassuring me I replied, that I can still spot a liar a mile off. I paid for the donuts and coffee and left.

****

Steve Nicola caught up with me in the Detective’s locker room. He’d phoned the airport and had discovered my plane had landed on time. After my travels I needed to freshen up. He asked how my trip had gone, whether it had been worth it. I told him Kelton’s girlfriend had identified him and then she got killed about a year ago. His sister had suddenly left a town she’d lived in for most of her life and somehow had managed to come up with enough cash to open up a business, all about the same time as Kelton’s death. Nicola asked if I’d found out if Julie Winston had any family, but the only person I’d found was a nun who remembered the kid from when she lived in a home after her parents died; she would be coming to the funeral which had been arranged for Friday. In the meantime Saperstein and Stavros had finished their shifts and had come into the locker room to change before heading home. They’d overheard my conversation with Nicola and realised I was paying for Julie’s funeral. Saperstein pointed out that funerals were expensive, but I told him there wasn’t that much to it. Stavros asked if the nun was the only ‘family’ she had. I replied that she was. Kelton’s alive I told the room, I know it. Nicola suggested I prove it and then wire Ohio as they still have a murder case on him.

I walked into the squad room. Crocker was sitting at his desk talking on the phone and offering to take a message for me. When he saw me he handed the phone over and informed me the caller was a Mrs Austin, Julie Winston’s landlady and she was calling about the girl’s personal effects. I told her I’d be over later, and headed into my office. I could see there were a couple of reports on my desk and recognised Crocker’s handwriting on the cover of one of them. The other was from the Fire Department. Apparently there had been fires in two of Bretton's department stores last night. Crocker's report mentioned the incident he'd been called to had been caused by a compressor blowing in the men's room and the fire had been extinguished by the store's sprinkler system, but the report from the Fire Department had designated the other incident as ‘suspicious’. I yelled for my detective to come into the office and ‘enlighten me’.

“What’s this department store fire last night?” I asked him. He replied that there had been an accident; a compressor had blown and there had been no injuries. I asked him if he’d spoken to the Fire Department; he hadn’t. I asked him if he’d spoken to any witnesses; he hadn’t. But he HAD spoken with Bretton's security chief, former Flatbush detective Tom Donnelly, who had given him all the information for his report. Fed you a pack of lies I thought, remembering the badly-dressed, cigar-chomping ex-cop I knew so well. I asked him if Donnelly had covered the evidence with the smoke from his cigars because the report from the Fire Department said one of the fires was 'suspicious'. Crocker then angrily realised that Donnelly had tricked him. I grabbed my coat and ordered him to accompany me down town.

****

The three of us, Donnelly, Crocker and I sat at a table at the rooftop café of Bretton’s Department Store nursing cups of coffee. I told Donnelly he’d come a long way and that if he didn’t get the building blown up with him underneath it… I watched as he lit another of his foul-smelling cigars while trying to think up an answer to my comment. I looked at Crocker, who in turn looked at the both of us. I could see the anger behind those grey eyes as he watched and listened. Donnelly told us compressors blow out, it happens. Crocker wasn’t the only one who was mad with our badly dressed companion. 

“Two alarms transmitted from two stores on the same day” I told him; “one you ‘squashed’ with a con job on a young cop who wants to be a nice guy to a former cop,” I saw Crocker drop his head, “and the other’s designated as 'suspicious' by the Fire Department; caused by ‘detonation’. That was the way THEY'D put it! Now how would YOU put it?”

Donnelly mentioned that no one had been hurt. No they hadn’t Crocker pointed out, speaking for the first time, and then he continued to tell Donnelly that the man had played him for a jerk, giving him a cock and bull story he now had to write up in a report. Donnelly pointed out that it wasn’t a report; just a piece of paper Crocker had signed his name on; to HIM it was his job! 

I told Donnelly it was beginning to stink, and I wasn’t referring to his cigars. He told me everything was being ‘handled’ that I shouldn’t worry. I asked who was ‘handling’ it and threatened to make an even bigger explosion that the last two! He looked across at Crocker again and backing down told us it was extortion; a guy had delivered some sample bombs, that HE had to deliver the ‘price’ or the man was going to do it again and he had a boss who wrote the rules including not having anything to do with cops. I looked at Crocker and the two of us began to stand up. Donnelly asked us to sit back down. We sat. He told us if we put the pressure on Proctor, the general manager that he would know it started with him and he’d be out of a job. I looked at Crocker who was looking at Donnelly with an expression of disgust on his face. We got up and began to walk away. Donnelly called us back and told us the ‘pay off’ was tomorrow, that as soon as HE knew where and when, WE'D know. I informed him I’d be waiting for his call. He then apologised to Crocker for conning him. Unfortunately he made the mistake of calling my detective ‘kid’; something he’ll take from me because, well, I’m his boss and I can and do call him what I like. He’ll even take it from the guys on the squad, but he won’t take it from anyone else. Sounding surprisingly calm Crocker looked Donnelly directly in the face and told him it was alright, that he wouldn’t want him to be straight with a cop who’s still a cop. Then he turned and walked away. I looked at Donnelly. What do you do with a kid who still believes in self-respect I asked? Then I turned and followed Crocker to the exit.

****

As we walked back to our cars I could see Crocker was still brooding and said something to him. He asked if he should have been easier on Donnelly, but I told him no; the man had had it coming. We walked past a shop selling paintings and looked through the window. I asked Crocker what was happening with the sketch we had of the guy Julie Winston had seen. He told me he’d got them spread all over the Village. I started thinking out loud. I wondered how many guys we were looking for; Kelton’s MO, and the guy who’d ‘hit’ the department stores? Crocker asked if I thought it all tied together. I told him that so far it wasn’t pulling apart. Julie Winston had run from a bomber she swore was still alive and suddenly she goes off a roof… for no reason… why? Because she DID see him I said, answering my own question. He’s here now; the same MO, the same carelessness about victims. I asked Crocker to get the guys set up for a meeting at eight o'clock the following morning, that would give us time to organise a stake out at the ‘drop’ when Donnelly called and then I told him to go home and get some sleep. 

We arrived back at our cars and Crocker asked me if I wanted to get something to eat before heading home. He was going to try the Chinese over on Mott Street, I said I’d meet him there after I’d been to see Julie Winston’s landlady.

****

I stood in the small apartment; the only light coming from the landing, through the open door behind me. Once again I could hear Julie Winston’s voice in my head telling me that she hadn’t made any friends yet. My thoughts were interrupted when Mrs Austin appeared next to me and switched the main light on. She was a large lady with blonde hair and was wearing a flowery robe of some kind. She introduced herself to me and apologised for having to rush me, but the people who owned the building wanted to get the room rented out again as soon as possible. It all sounded heartless, but I guess business is business. I was looking through a box of books. Next to it was a pile of dresses all on hangers. Mrs Austin picked them up and asked if I had a sister. The clothes weren’t very expensive she noted, but they were useable. I told her to take them and give them to somebody. She picked up the pile and left me to my thoughts. 

****

At the restaurant on Mott Street I found my detective sitting alone at a small table. I had to smile at the idea of a Chinese restaurant with American jazz playing in the background. I sat in the seat opposite and asked him what he was eating, noticing that whatever it was he hadn’t eaten much of it. I asked the waiter for two very cold beers. I looked at Crocker and asked if he was still mad. I could see that he was. 

“Donnelly makes the word ‘pig’ seem right.” He began. I told him that Donnelly had been on the Force a long time and now he’d had a taste of the good life he was scared of losing it. I pointed out that when we get older we get nervous about tomorrow. Crocker looked at me. I suggested that he not look back because one day it will happen to HIM. 

“Do you know Donnelly THAT well; well enough to make excuses for him?” he asked. I replied that when he’d been on the Force, Donnelly had been good; he’d done just about everything and he'd even remembered his friends when he got the security job at the store.

“What do WE owe HIM?” Crocker continued. I looked at him, and saw the anger still burning in his eyes and tried to reassure him that Donnelly would probably have tried to con me as well, and he might have succeeded. But Crocker didn’t believe me for a second. I looked at him and smiled as he dropped his head; a move I knew so well.

“So it sounds good,” I remarked. “Anyway it’s true. You know he’s got at least ten retired guys jobs through the years? Andy Rhodes his assistant, used to be with him in the Brooklyn Division. You gotta give the guy credit,” I continued, “he could have hired civilians, but he went with the guys.” Crocker looked at me.

“OK,” he began. “I’ll stay on the Force and when I get the urge to travel I’ll come and see you.” I told him that one trip to West Virginia hardly qualified me as an authority on world travel. He waved his hand “What’s wrong with this?” he asked, looking round the room, “don’t you recognise Hong Kong?” He then asked if I’d heard any more about Julie Winston. The black cloud that had risen from my head for a while descended again. No more than I had this afternoon, I told him. He commented that she’d seemed like a nice chick. 

“Yeah,” I replied. There must have been something in the way I said that one word because suddenly I found myself on the receiving end of exactly the same pep talk I usually give HIM; that sometimes these things just happen. Feeling suddenly out of sorts I decided I’d had enough world travel for one day and got up to leave. I asked him to pay for the beers.

****

Donnelly had come through and had phoned to say that the ‘drop’ was to be in Washington Square Park at 15:00. Everyone was in position and we watched as he and Rhodes dropped a large brown paper bag into a waste basket. All that was left for us to do was wait for the pick-up. And we waited and waited. The sun was beginning to go down and Crocker remarked that we should have brought sleeping bags. I asked him if he’d rather have been in the Village showing Kelton’s picture round. He thought about it and decided that if he had his choice over again he’d go to the Village. 

At that moment a hot and sweaty Stavros staggered up to us. I reminded him that he was SUPPOSED to be over in the Village. Gasping for oxygen he informed us that Nicola had sent him over to let us know that a bomb had gone off at Bretton’s Department Store; the one on the East Side, and that someone had been killed. I asked Crocker to go get the bag of money from the waste bin; there would be no collection today.

****

The following morning my detective and I joined Donnelly in his office. Crocker was pacing up and down impatiently.

“The bomb was timed to go off at exactly that hour,” he remarked, “whoever did it knew he was going to ‘hit’ an open store; he wanted blood!” 

“And he also knew we’d staked out the pay-off,” I remarked to Donnelly and asked him to give me names. He tried to say there was nobody, but I cut him off and demanded to know who had put up the money? What about the guy carrying the ‘bundle’? He informed us that his boss had put the money together, and the guy with him had been Rhodes. I decided it couldn’t be Proctor because he had the ability to steal all the money he wanted simply with a swish of his pen, so it had to be Rhodes. Donnelly protested and said that Rhodes had been with him since he started the job, that they'd known one another for years. I smiled sarcastically at Donnelly and asked him to tell me all about Rhodes.

“Well he lives alone,” he began, “drives a car old enough to look honest, buys his clothes off the rack in the store: cut price, and goes to Florida for two weeks every year.”

“Does he have an office?” I asked. Donnelly pointed to the desk over by the window. Crocker immediately began looking through the files that were piled up there and commented that everything was too perfect; that it looked as if all Rhodes did was his job. I asked Donnelly to check Rhodes’ phone bills, particularly for calls made either to Ohio and West Virginia. He decided this was the time to ‘get religion’ and reminded me that we should have a warrant. I ignored him. 

It took a few minutes but he eventually found something, and handed me the bill. There had been three calls in the same week; all to Kelton’s sister’s coffee shop. I asked where Rhodes was at the moment and was told he was over at Proctor’s office waiting for another call from the bomber. We headed to the man’s office and found him out in the corridor. Donnelly asked him where Rhodes was and was told a note had been received and Rhodes was doing what HE should have been doing; delivering the package. He then saw me and Crocker and demanded to know who WE were. I introduced myself and Proctor was far from happy to learn that we were cops. I asked to see the note, but he told me he didn’t have it, and in fact hadn’t even seen it. Rhodes had rushed off to handle things about an hour ago. 

“You’ve blown it, little man!” I yelled at Proctor, “The Board of Directors will be glad to know that you handed over money to a man involved in extortion and murder!” I looked at Donnelly and asked if he knew where Rhodes lived. Thankfully, he did.

****

The three of us stood in the hallway outside Rhodes’ apartment, our guns drawn. I tried the door handle; the door was locked. At my signal Crocker kicked it open and we entered. After a brief look round we ascertained no one was home. I picked up the phone and calling Central asked them to put out an alarm for two males: Caucasian, murder, extortion, arson…” Hoping that Rhodes would eventually return home, we decided to lie in wait; Crocker and Donnelly in the apartment and me out in the hallway.

Eventually we got lucky. Rhodes came out of the elevator and walked up to his door. Noticing the lock was damaged he pulled out a gun and turning round found ME looming over him. I quickly grabbed the gun from his hand and shoved him through his door, straight into Crocker’s ‘loving arms’. Rhodes was quickly searched and cuffed. He asked what we wanted. I told him we wanted Frank Kelton. At first he tried to make out he didn’t know anyone by that name. I informed him I didn’t have the time to play ‘good guy, bad guy’ that he should just figure all of us for the bad guy. Checking Rhodes’ jacket Crocker found a key in the inside top pocket and handed it to me. It was a key for a locker, somewhere in town I guessed. I asked Rhodes where.

“All I did was deliver the money to the box like I was supposed to and then I met Kelton with the key.” He told me. 

“And you split the cash and said good-bye,” I finished for him. I told him he was ‘locked in’ that there are also two murders involved, so it’s good-bye garbage! Rhodes looked directly at me and told me that I’d let Kelton get away before, but HE was the only one who knew where the man was right now. Either we made a deal or Crocker, Donnelly and me could go play ‘hide and go seek’. That was ALL I needed, worrying about having to hold up MY end while dealing with the likes of Rhodes. I told him to talk. He asked me to call the DA. I ordered him to talk, NOW! He backed down and told us what he knew.

****

Crocker, Donnelly, and I arrived at the bus terminal along with our prisoner. Stavros and Saperstein met us; they’d got the placed covered as best as they could and informed me that the terminal police were also assisting. We looked around and Rhodes eventually spotted Kelton in the queue for the New England bus. Having seen us approaching, the bomber made a run for it. Crocker immediately set off in pursuit. I instructed Stavros and Saperstein to keep an eye on Rhodes and went after Crocker. 

I reached the top of the escalator in time to see my detective slide down the central partition; an impressive move I thought, and then watched as he ran towards the embarkation area. Confident of Crocker's abilities I followed at my own pace and arrived next to the New England bus at the precise moment Kelton emerged through the open hatch of the baggage compartment. Crocker followed seconds later and grabbed the man from behind. The kid looked like he'd been hit by a truck. Stavros, Saperstein, Donnelly and Rhodes arrived and Crocker handed Kelton over to Stavros who put the cuffs on. 

“You bum!” Kelton yelled when he saw Rhodes. The former cop then began to panic and told us he hadn’t known Kelton was intending to kill anyone.

“Not even the girl in the Village?” I asked, referring to Julie Winston. Rhodes claimed to have no idea who she was. I told him she was 'nobody'; just a kid from a small town in Ohio who liked art. Then I ordered the men to get Rhodes and Kelton out of my sight, leaving Crocker and me with Donnelly who immediately started bragging about how he was going go into work in the morning and tell his boss where he could shove his next pay cheque; that Proctor wasn’t going to hold it over his head anymore. He looked at Crocker and then he too departed.

“You really think he’s going to say all that?” Crocker asked me, already knowing the answer. I told him Donnelly was going to go into work tomorrow and was going to say ‘Good morning Mr Proctor, nice day today Mr Proctor…’ like the boot-licker he is.

Before he left my detective looked at me and informed me that there was still time to go to Julie Winston’s wake; that all the guys were going. They’d figured that even lieutenants can go broke paying for funerals, so they’d formed a kitty and all chipped in. I was moved and thought, not for the first time, what a great bunch of guys I have working for me.


End file.
